Peace with Justice — Wess Daniels

Shortly after I became the pastor at Camas Friends Church I was in my office when a knock came on the door. A ragged looking woman was standing in the window. It was obvious she’d spent some time on the street, who knows for how long. She carried a tattered plastic grocery bag with some items of food in it. I welcomed her in, introduced myself and asked her if there was anything I could do for her. She said her name was Betty and she wanted to sing a Quaker song for me. Being a sucker for a good Quaker tune I easily obliged. She began to sing “This Little Light of Mine” in a very fragile, almost crooked voice. She was weak. Probably hungry, obviously dealing with some form of mental illness.

When the song came to an end I thanked her and mentioned that I wasn’t sure Quakers could take the credit for “This Little Light of Mine” but that it was a beautiful rendition nonetheless. Then she began to tell me her story, and said she hadn’t been able to sleep in two days because she doesn’t feel safe sleeping on the street at night. She asked if I would mind if she could take a nap on the office floor for a little while. I paused for a minute. This really caught me off guard, not because I felt it was too much to ask, but because of how belittling it felt to say ,”sure sleep on my floor!” I was amazed at how simple the request was, how basic the need, and yet how ill-equipped I felt to respond. Can we have people sleep in our building? What about the Montessori school? Should I watch her sleep and make sure she doesn’t take anything. Many questions, not all in character with Jesus’ sheep in Matthew 25, ran through my head. Finally I said, “Of course you can’t sleep on the office floor, at least come and sleep on one of our pews” (in case you’re wondering if we have those good ol’ fashioned hard Quaker pews made for only the most faithful, most of ours are cushioned). I led her into the sanctuary, helped her get situated, and left her to sleep for the next four hours as I got a crash course in how to help a woman in her situation.

Not only did I get a personal education that day, Betty became for us an invitation from God to enter into a deeper awareness of the poor in our community. Little did I know the opportunity Betty’s little visit really was.

4 Comments

Bill Wagoner

Wess—-This story really grabbed me. How/when will it “be continued?” My wife Joyce and I retired after seven years of pastoral leadership at Friends Memorial in Muncie last year. With the meetinghouse being in an older part of the city, we were frequently visited by the homeless. It stretched the meeting to know how to show compassion and yet “protect” the chilodren of the Preschool. One gentleman frequently took up residence at night on the front entrance area of the meetingouse, and left trash and waste behind. Some members tried to respond redemptively, others said call the police.

Bill – thanks for the comment. I’m posting on the 1st of each month, so that’s when you can expect to see the next part. And I know exactly what you’re talking about, my hope is that people change to more compassionate responses when they see the real faces of the poor, and hear their stories. But I know this isn’t always the case.

Bill Wagoner

Wess—No, it isn’t always the case. Part of the rationale or motivation is in protecting the meetingouse. In 2008 Friends Memorial celebrated the 100th anniversary of the building of the meetinhouse in 1908. A lot was said to remind us of Fox’s disdain for emphasis on steeplehouses, but much was still said in the way of honoring as well as faithfully maintaining our historic downtown building. There is something to be said for keeping up the premises, and for the stewardship of what has been passed on to the present generation. But every congregation wants their place of worship to look attractive, being in the “come worship with us” race, and that puts us in cultural lock step with most other congregations.